


how am I supposed to live without you

by HawthorneWhisperer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Exes, F/M, background Ice Mechanic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-05 04:51:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12183225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthorneWhisperer/pseuds/HawthorneWhisperer
Summary: Bellamy and Clarke were something, until they weren't.But now she's in the hospital and Bellamy's the only one around.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by The Big Sick, but only in the sense that it's angsty-exes-and-a-hospitalization.

Bellamy was halfway to his car when his phone rang.  He considered ignoring it— in addition to a backpack that weighed a ton he had three books in his left hand that hadn’t fit into his bag— but given that Octavia was the only person who contacted him regularly and she would rather  _ die _ than use a communication method other than Snapchat or text, he figured it was an emergency.

A local number flashed at him and he definitely considered hitting ignore then, but the part of him that worried— the part Octavia and Miller liked to tease him about— got the better of him.  He hefted his books higher and pressed the phone to his ear.  “Hello?”

“Is this Bellamy Blake?” a vaguely familiar female voice asked.

His heart leapt into his throat.  Something bad was coming, he could feel it. “Yes?”

“It’s Raven,” she said briskly and it took him a second to place the name.  He’d done his best to put that part of his life behind him, after all.  It still hurt to think about.  

“Raven?  Why are you—”

“Shut up and listen,” she snapped.  “I just got a call from Arkadia Memorial and Clarke has been in an accident.”  His stomach plummeted, even though just Clarke's _name_ was enough to pierce his heart.  “I need you to get there and hold down the fort until I can get back.”

“What about—”

“Her mom is out of the country and unreachable, Monty and I are at a conference in Chicago and can’t get home until tomorrow night, and Wells lives in fucking Seattle.  And absolutely no one in their right mind would put Jasper in charge of this,” she said grimly.  “Trust me, you’re my last fucking option.  Only option, actually.”

“Is she—”

“She’s fine,” Raven said, apparently uninterested in letting him finish a sentence.  “Well, not fine.  But she’s alive and stable and that’s what we’re hanging onto.  Are you gonna do this or not?”

“Of course I will,” he said without thinking.  “Arkadia Memorial’s just over ten minutes from here.  I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Make it five,” Raven said and hung up.

He didn’t even know Clarke was  _ back _ .  He knew her fellowship ended a month ago, of course, but she’d been so happy in Monterey he assumed she’d want to stay there.  He couldn’t blame her for not contacting him but it still stung to know she had moved back to Virginia and didn’t even send him a Facebook message.

Not that he would have responded.  He was still pissed at her.  Really pissed.

So pissed that his heart raced and his hands shook the whole way to the hospital, and he was reasonably sure he ran at least two stop signs on the way.   _ She’s alive and stable _ did not sound comforting, and he didn’t know Raven well but he knew what a stressed out, worried friend sounded like.  He didn’t remember parking and vaguely hoped he wasn’t going to get towed, but shit like that didn’t matter when Clarke might be  _ dying _ and the last thing he said to her was  _ just fucking leave. _

They had started so easily he should have known it would go down in flames.  They met at a bar near campus and went home together, but what was supposed to be a night of good sex had turned into a night of laughter and conversation over a whiskey bottle.  They fell asleep on his couch, her head tucked into his shoulder, and the next morning they staggered to the diner around the corner for a greasy brunch.

They had sex after that, laughing off their hangovers as they fucked in the bright afternoon sunshine on his bed.  She told him she had an artist-in-residence fellowship in California in six months and he told her he didn’t do relationships— not after the dual catastrophe of Gina and then Echo—  and they agreed to just have fun.

And they did.  They had a blast for six straight months and as the deadline closed in he had second thoughts, but Clarke told him her last relationship had gone belly-up thanks to long-distance and that just couldn’t face going through that again.

So when she left, they agreed to just be friends.  Friends who talked all the time, friends who sometimes slipped up and ended jerking off on the phone together, friends who stayed up long past reasonable hours talking because Clarke was lonely and Bellamy had never been able to talk to someone like he could to her.

But he couldn’t ever be  _ just _ something with her, and when she showed up for an unexpected visit three months in he thought they were on the same page.

He had never been more wrong.

Bellamy barreled through the ER waiting room and cornered a frazzled looking nurse.  “Clarke Griffin,” he barked.  “Where is she?”

“And you are?”

He hesitated.   _ Her ex boyfriend _ was definitely not going to get him through security, but judging by the absolute zoo happening around him he made a guess that this nurse wasn’t the one who called Raven.  “Her emergency contact,” he lied.

“Sign in at the desk; they’ll direct you,” the nurse said and walked away.

Clarke was already out of the emergency room and in the ICU and he wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.  He found her room on the third floor and decided it didn’t matter which was worse: either way, it was  _ awful _ .  She was lying in a bed full of tubes and surrounded by machines that beeped ominously.

He stopped six feet from her bed, unable to go closer.  She wouldn’t want him here; he was sure of that.  But Raven wouldn’t have called him if there was any other option, and she couldn’t go through this alone.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not Raven Reyes?” a voice drawled from the doorway.  

Bellamy spun and found a nurse eyeing him critically.  “Raven’s out of town,” he admitted, deciding on the spot this guy could tell if someone was lying to him.  “She called me.”

“Right,” the nurse said, still pursing his lips suspiciously.  His name tag said  _ Murphy _ and Bellamy couldn’t tell if that was a first or last name.  “Well, Clarke here is in rough shape and as she’s unconscious, we need a family member to sign off in case we have to take her into another surgery.”

“I’m not—”

“So we’re  _ really lucky _ her husband showed up just in time, aren’t we?” Murphy held out the clipboard with a pointed look.  

“She needs surgery?” Bellamy said helplessly.  He took the clipboard but his eyes were blurring— he couldn’t have read what was in front of him if it were a contract with the devil.

“Another one, yeah.  I’ll send a doctor in to explain everything  _ to her husband _ .”

Bellamy blindly scribbled something like his name at the bottom of the paper and handed it back, turning to look at Clarke again.

He hadn’t seen her in almost six months.  Her hair was shorter now, and he desperately hoped the flash of red peeking out at the nape of her neck was dye and not blood.  She looked pale and wan, purple bruises blooming under her eyes, and her right hand was in a cast.   _ At least her left is okay _ , he thought pointlessly, because what good is her sketching hand if she dies?  Machines beeped and whirred and he wished to god Raven were here instead of him.

A young doctor knocked on the door.  “You must be Bellamy,” he said, striding in.  “I’m Jackson.  I’ll be taking care of Clarke.”  Jackson didn’t reference their supposed marriage and Bellamy wondered if it was worth bringing up, but decided against it.  Someone needed to be here, if only until they tracked down Abby.  Jackson motioned to a chair beside her bed and Bellamy sank into it while the doctor took one to his left.

Dr. Jackson started talking in a gentle, practiced voice, explaining what had happened from the moment the EMTs arrived at the wreck to now.  Halfway through Bellamy realized he wasn’t going to remember any of this so he pulled out his phone and made him start over from the beginning.  Bellamy typed dutifully, if only because that kept him from looking at Clarke, and every time he did that he felt like his own heart was stopping.  Jackson was encouraging but not overly so, and Bellamy understood what that meant— she wasn’t anywhere near out of the woods.  This might be it.

After everything, he could lose her.  And it wasn’t until that very moment that he’d even realized he still  _ could _ lose her— that he hadn’t lost her that day in November.

“Does she have any other family?” Jackson asked, and Bellamy swallowed hard.

“Her mom— her mom is out of the country.  I’m not sure how to get ahold of her,” he said, clearing his throat.

“You should try and get in touch with her,” Jackson said, and dread filled his gut.  “I’m sure she’d want to be here.”

“I will.  You said...another surgery?” he asked, scanning his notes app for the last thing he’d written.  “Tonight?”

“Not tonight, no.  She’s stable for now but she’s still weak and we don’t want to put her through the stress of another surgery until she’s a little stronger.  Tomorrow morning, hopefully.  Tomorrow afternoon...either way.”

_ Either she’s healthy enough tomorrow morning or we do it tomorrow afternoon and risk her dying on the table because without this, she dies either way. _  “Got it, thanks,” he said automatically.  “What are the visiting hours here?”

“You can stay,” Jackson said, his dark eyes sympathetic.  “The nurses will be in to check her vitals, but that chair in the corner reclines.  Try and get some rest, and we’ll reevaluate tomorrow.”

Bellamy stood and shook his hand and then sat dumbly, the minutes ticking by.  He noticed a cast on her right leg that he hadn’t seen before, and a line of stitches above her right eyebrow.  It hurt to look at her but it hurt worse to look away.

He shook himself out of his stupor and picked up his phone.  Raven answered halfway through the first ring.  “How bad is it?”

“Bad,” he said, because he knew Raven well enough to know that sugar coating it wouldn’t help.  “But she’s stable.  She’s in the ICU and they want to do surgery tomorrow if she’s strong enough.”

“And if she’s not?”

“They do it anyway.”

“Fuck.   _ Fuck _ ,” she repeated.  “Monty’s trying to rearrange our flights but everything’s full so far— I might just go standby tomorrow morning; see if I can get anything.”

“I’ll be here,” he promised.  “I won’t leave her side until you get here.  She won’t— she won’t be alone.”   _ She won’t be alone if she dies _ , he thought, and squeezed his eyes shut as if to block out the thought.  Raven was silent and he knew she was thinking the same thing.  “Any idea how to get ahold of Abby?” he asked, changing the subject for both of them.

Raven sighed.  “I’m working on it, but she’s in the Caribbean doing relief work and they were absolutely flattened by that last Category Five.  They have some power but the cell networks are down and I have no idea if she can check her email or anything.  I’ll keep trying but if you have any ideas, I’m all ears.”

“My roommate’s dad works at the State Department,” Bellamy suggested.  “I can see if he can pull any strings, or see if he has someone we can contact.”

“Great.  And if I get through to her, what should I tell her?  Abby’s going to lose her mind and details will help.”

“I took notes when I talked to the doctor but I couldn’t tell you what most it means.”

“Then screenshot your notes and I’ll send them to Abby, just in case.”

“Will do.”  Silence hung thick between them and he chewed his lower lip.  “Thanks for calling, Raven.”

She didn’t respond right away and he understood why.  “Thanks for being there,” she said, and it wasn’t genuine, but it wasn’t not-genuine either.  That probably counted for progress, all things considered.

He hung up and quickly texted her the photo of his notes and then dug his palms into his eye sockets.  He wondered how long he had been here— it felt like forever and less than a minute at the same time.

It was a testament to Miller’s friendship that he answered his phone without grumbling when Bellamy called, clearly waking him up.  “What’s wrong?”

“Clarke’s in the hospital,” Bellamy said without preamble.

“Wait—  _ Clarke _ Clarke?  She’s back?”

“I guess, but that’s not why I’m calling.  She’s— she’s bad.  And her mom is in the Caribbean but we don’t know how to get in touch with her.”

“And you want to know if my dad can get a message through.”

“Yeah.  Look, I wouldn’t ask if—”

“ — if it weren’t an emergency, I know,” Miller finished.  “Do you know what island?”

Bellamy relayed the information and thanked Miller, and then there was nothing more to do but watch a machine slowly inflate and deflate Clarke’s chest and wish he could take back every vicious thing he said to her.

_ “So we’re doing this, right?” he asked, nuzzling her shoulder. _

_ Clarke was always sleepy after sex, and she blinked at him.  “Doing what? Sex?  Because yeah, we just did. I’m pretty sure you were there.” _

_ Bellamy chuckled.  “No, I mean— no more of this stupid no-long-distance bullshit.” _

_ “This what?” Suddenly she was wide awake, sitting up and clutching the sheet to her chest. _

_ “I know, I know, you didn’t want to, but come on,” he wheedled.  In retrospect he should have seen the warning signs, but he was half drunk on her and Bellamy always got a little stupid after he came.   _

_ “Bellamy, I thought I was clear.  I can’t—” _

_ “Sure you can,” he said.  “We practically already are.” _

_ “No, we’re friends,” she insisted. _

_ Her tone finally broke through his haze and an ice cube settled into his stomach.  “Friends who fuck?” _

_ “Exactly.  That’s what— that’s what we agreed to last time.” _

_ “‘Last time’ being the time you begged me to talk to you while you fucked yourself with your vibrator?” he asked coldly.  It wasn’t fair of him to throw that at her— he had been the one to suggest it, after all, and he was the one who promised her it didn’t have to mean anything— but he was getting pissed. _

_ Clarke threw off the covers and started getting dressed.  “Don’t pretend like that was just my idea,” she snapped.  “You know I can’t do this again.” _

_ “So then why did you come here, huh?  Why did you show up, unannounced, on my doorstep today?”  He grabbed his boxers and jammed his legs into them, desperate to feel less vulnerable. _

_ "I told you,” she half-shouted.  “I wasn’t going to come to town and not see you.” _

_ “And when you kissed me?  What the fuck was that?” _

_ Clarke looked momentarily guilty but then her face hardened.  “It was just sex,” she snarled.  “Like I said.” _

_ “What are we doing, Clarke?” he yelled, now angry beyond reason.  He knew what he was getting into with her, but his stupid fucking heart had gone and gotten involved.  And now he was realizing just how dumb and naive he’d been, because he’d never meant anywhere near as much to her as she meant to him.  "Do my feelings matter at all?  Or just yours?  Does fucking everything have to be on your terms? _

_ “Don’t do this,” she said, shifting from angry to sad on a dime.  “Please, Bellamy.  Don’t— don’t do this.” _

_ “Do what?” _

_ “Ruin this.” _

_ “You already pretty well ruined it yourself, princess,” he shouted.   _

_ Tears welled in her eyes.  “I thought— I thought you were okay with this.  With being friends.  You said you were, Bellamy.  You swore.” _

_ He had promised her that, it was true.  And it hadn’t felt like a lie then, even if it was.  “Well, maybe I’m not,” he said, still standing across the bed from her.  If he went closer he’d want to hold her and wipe away the tears that were streaking down her cheeks and he couldn’t afford that. _

_ “I need you,” she said in a tiny voice.  “Please, I’m sorry, I won’t— I shouldn’t have done this, but—” _

_ “You need me?  You  _ need  _ me?  You left me, Clarke.  You. Left.”  Bellamy blinked back his own tears.  He was just realizing how much it hurt when she left for California, and a wretched combination of pride and self-destruction made him desperate to make sure he destroyed whatever was left. _

_ “You knew I was leaving when this started,” she countered.   _

_ “Yeah, well, you’re good at that, aren’t you?” he said.  “So go.” _

_ “Bellamy—” _

_ “I said go, Clarke.”  He clenched his jaw tight and hoped she didn’t notice that his voice was shaking.  “Leave.” _

_ "Bellamy—” she tried again. _

_ “Don’t.  Just go.  Get out of here.  Just— just fucking leave.” _

_ So she left. _

 

* * *

 

Bellamy woke to find a nurse smiling sympathetically at him.  His neck ached from sleeping in a chair and his leg was definitely asleep, but his eyes went straight to Clarke.  The machines were still breathing for her, but she looked a little pinker.  He hoped. “How is she?”

“She’s improved,” the nurse said.  “I’m Harper— I’ll be with you for the day shift.”  She pointed to a white board he hadn’t noticed the night before with  _ Harper _ written on it in bubbly, girly letters.  “Her vitals are good and Dr. Jackson says she’s strong enough for surgery, so we’ll be taking her down in about an hour.  If you have any questions, a surgeon will be by shortly to answer them.”  She paused on her way out the door and threw a soft look at Clarke.  “She’s a fighter, you know.”

His throat was too thick to respond, so Bellamy nodded blankly and pulled out his phone to text Raven.

 

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ 7:34am _

_ She’s stronger so they’re taking her into surgery in an hour.  Any word on Abby? _

 

_ Raven Reyes _

_ 7:34am _

_ Nope but I’m on standby and they think I can get on the next flight out of here.  I should be there by early afternoon. _

 

_ Raven Reyes _

_ 7:34am _

_ Any luck with your friend with the connection at State? _

 

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ 7:34am _

_ Haven’t heard from him yet, but I know his dad.  If there’s anything he can do, David will do it. _

 

_ Raven Reyes _

_ 7:35am _

_ Keep me posted _

 

An hour came and went.  Harper stopped by and said a surgeon would be on their way shortly, but not to worry, delays like this happened.  Bellamy paced, checking his phone every few minutes just for something to do.  Raven texted that she was on the plane and would text again when she landed, and shortly after that Miller texted to tell him his dad would make some calls and let him know when he knew more.

So he waited.  He waited for Raven to get there and Miller to get back to him and for a goddamn surgeon to arrive and tell him what the hell was going on.  Clarke just laid there, unconscious.  A machine would beep and her chest would rise, and then with another beep it would fall.  They were keeping her unconscious so she wouldn’t fight the intubation, but he prayed to whatever god would listen for her to open her eyes anyway.

Part of him was still  _ so mad _ at her for the way things ended, and yet he would still do anything for just one more glimpse of her bright blue eyes.

By the time the surgeon walked in he was barely hanging on to his temper.  She was a cold but efficient woman, her thick black hair twisted into a neat bun.  She spat some jargon at him about  _ internal bleeding _ and  _ possible kidney damage _ , and struggled to contain an eye roll when he asked her to repeat herself so he could write it down.  He figured pissing off the woman whose hands were about to be in Clarke’s chest cavity wasn’t the best idea so he bit back every retort on the tip of his tongue and asked if he could have a moment with Clarke before she went down.

Dr. Tsing agreed and Harper tactfully followed her out of the room.  Bellamy sat in the chair near Clarke’s head and hesitantly reached out for her hand.

It was the first time he’d touched her since the day they ended.  Her hand was cold and small and part of him wanted to pull back, but if this was it, he didn’t want even more regrets than he already had.  “Hey princess,” he said roughly.  “I know I wasn’t— I probably should have done this earlier, but I didn’t—” he broke off, because  _ I didn’t want to face the fact that you might die _ was probably not the best thing to say, even if she couldn’t hear him.

“Timing was never my strong suit, I guess,” he said instead.  “But this— this is not how you go out, princess.  It can’t be.  And I know I’m not the person you’d want, but I’m here, and I’ll be here when you get out, I swear.  I’m not going anywhere.  You just fight this, okay?  You fight as hard as you can, and then when you wake up you can kick my ass.  I promise.”

He blinked rapidly and waved Harper in, letting go of Clarke’s hand.  They wheeled her out and he sank back down into the chair, alone.

 

* * *

 

 

_ Raven Reyes _

_ 11:41am _

_ Landed.  Roan’s waiting to drive me straight to the hospital. _

 

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ 11:41am _

_ Roan? _

 

_ Raven Reyes _

_ 11:41am _

_ You know anyone else with a Lamborghini willing to drive 90 mph the whole way? _

 

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ 11:42am _

_ Fair enough _

 

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ 11:42am _

_ She’s still in surgery.  No idea if that’s good or bad. _

 

_ Raven Reyes _

_ 11:42am _

_ Abby always says no news is good news, when it comes to doctors _

 

_ Raven Reyes _

_ 11:42am _

_ Any luck with her? _

 

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ 11:43am _

_ David Miller found someone with a satellite phone.  They’re going to track her down and have her call me. _

 

_ Raven Reyes _

_ 11:43am _

_ No offense, but why you? _

 

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ 11:43am _

_ In case you were in the air.  I’m here and not leaving. _

 

_ Raven Reyes _

_ 11:43am _

_ Legit _

 

_ Raven Reyes _

_ 11:49am _

_ Roan says if bribes are needed to get Abby the phone he’ll foot the bill. _

 

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ 11:50am _

_ Tell him thanks, I guess. _

 

Bellamy clicked his phone off and scrubbed a hand across his face.  The waiting was driving him insane.  He’d rarely felt so powerless; so utterly and completely useless.  Raven must be in Roan’s car, if he was offering to commit a felony for them, which meant she was on her way.  Then at least he wouldn’t be alone while he waited, even if he suspected Raven hated him for how things ended with Clarke.

At least that would make two of them.

Twenty minutes later Dr. Tsing came striding back in.  He jumped up and tried to read her face, but she was blank— expressionless.  “How is she?” he blurted out.

“She’s in recovery right now.  We made some good progress but her condition deteriorated so we weren’t able to finish everything we wanted to,” she said.

Bellamy had stopped listening after  _ condition deteriorated _ .  “What?” he asked.  “What does that mean?”

“It means she needs at least one more surgery but we can’t operate right now,” she replied calmly.  

He wanted to punch her in her cool, collected face.  “I thought you said she was strong enough,” he shouted, not giving a damn if he was making a scene.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Raven rush into the room, her face pale.

“She was,” Dr. Tsing said, completely unruffled by the fact that  _ Clarke was not okay _ .  “But these things happen.”

“These things  _ happen?” _ he yelled.

“Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” Raven shouted.  Roan was hanging back by the door, looking worried.  “Is my best friend dead or not?”

“And you are?” Dr. Tsing asked.

“She’s family,” Bellamy spat.  “And Clarke’s alive,” he added.  “But this jackass took her into surgery when she wasn’t strong enough.”

“Okay, how about you and me take a walk,” Roan announced.  He put his hand on Bellamy’s arm and Bellamy shook him off, still glaring at  Dr. Tsing.

“This isn’t unusual in cases like hers,” Dr. Tsing said.  “And like I said, we were able to repair quite a bit of the damage, just not all of it.  We’ll let her rest and heal and try again later.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients to see,” she finished and turned on her heel.

Bellamy was stunned as he watched walked her walk out without a second glance.  “I can fill you in on Clarke’s condition,” Harper offered to Raven.  “And Clarke will be back down in a little while.  She’s still unconscious, but like Dr. Tsing said, that’s not unusual for someone in her situation.”

“And we’re going to take a walk,” Roan said again, dragging Bellamy out to the hallway.

“Don’t touch me,” Bellamy grumbled, shaking his hand off.

Roan held both hands up in surrender.  “Okay, fine.  But I don’t think you going nuclear on the staff is going to do anyone any favors, so why don’t you let Raven get caught up to speed and you go take a minute.”

“I don’t need—”

“You need a break,” Roan said firmly.  “I don’t give a shit what you do, but go get your shit together before you come back, okay?”

Bellamy glared at him and Roan just looked at him mildly until he dropped his gaze.  Bellamy muttered something about getting coffee and felt Roan’s eyes on him as he walked away.  He was coming unglued and as much as Bellamy disliked the man, Roan had a point.  Shouting at the staff wouldn’t help Clarke.

He stopped at a vending machine and bought a cup of coffee, less because he needed it and more for something to do.  He dawdled on the way back, dreading facing Raven and Roan after his meltdown, but then his pocket started buzzing.  He pulled it out, saw  _ unknown number  _ flashing, and answered it immediately.

“Hello?”

“Is this Bellamy?”

Bellamy had never met Abby Griffin but somehow, he knew her voice, even distant and tinny through the satellite phone.  “It is,” he said, now half jogging down the hallway.  His coffee sloshed dangerously but if it were Octavia in a hospital room and him on the phone somewhere, he’d want them to run.  “She’s out of surgery but not back in her room yet,” he explained.  “They couldn’t finish.”

Abby sucked in a breath.  “What all did they get done?”

He did his best to recount what he knew off the top of his head and skidded around the corner into her room.  “Raven’s here,” he said, and saw relief sweep across Raven’s features.  “Here, I know she wants to talk to you.”  He thrust his phone at Raven and then watched her pace around the room, reciting everything Harper had told her.

Harper brought Clarke back and Bellamy couldn’t tell if she looked better or worse.  The bruising on her face was in stark contrast to her pale skin, and he was probably just imagining it, but her face seemed thinner.  Raven clapped a hand over her mouth when she saw her, and her jaw was tight as she continued detailing Clarke’s condition.

After a few minutes Dr. Jackson stopped by and agreed to fill Abby in on whatever Bellamy and Raven hadn’t understood.  Raven handed the phone over and sank into the chair next to him, both of them staring blankly at Clarke.  “I knew it was bad, but—” she broke off and rested her elbows on her knees.  “Thanks, you know.  For being here.”

“I know I wasn’t your first choice,” he said.  Roan stood a few paces away, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall.  

Raven snorted.  “Hardly.  But I knew you’d come through, even if you broke her heart.”

Despite everything, Bellamy felt a surge of anger.  “I broke  _ her _ heart?” he asked.

Roan seemed to have appointed himself Bellamy’s babysitter and chose that moment to break in, which was probably for the best because Raven was now glaring daggers at him.  “Has anyone gone to her place?” Roan asked.

“Why?” Bellamy said without looking over.

“She’s going to be here for awhile no matter what.  If she wakes up, it might be nice to have some of her things around.”

“Like what?” he asked, annoyed that Roan, of all people, was being the considerate one.  “Plants?”

“Plants, if she has them.  Maybe photographs, knick knacks, that sort of thing.”

“I don’t have a key,” Bellamy said sullenly.  “I don’t even know where she lives.”   _ I didn’t even know she was back _ .

“I do,” Raven said.  “But I don’t want to leave her yet.  Abby’s trying to get on a flight back, but she might not be here until tomorrow.”

Reluctantly, Bellamy took his cue.  “I’ll go, if you tell me where she lives.  I’ll go and be right back.”

“You could stop by your place too,” Roan said reasonably.  “Get a change of clothes, maybe get some sleep.”

“What are you trying to say?” Bellamy grumbled.

“Just that you’re probably tired and you’ve been wearing those clothes since yesterday.”

He sighed and wanted to fight back, but Roan had a point.  Raven slipped Clarke’s key off her ring and told him the address, and then took the phone back from Jackson to finish up with Abby.  Bellamy waved, but only Roan waved back.

 

* * *

 

Clarke’s apartment was only half unpacked.  That made him feel strangely better— she hadn’t been back long, so maybe she wasn’t ignoring him completely.  It was highly unlikely, of course, but he was rapidly getting used to clinging to scraps of hope.

He found the monogrammed tote bag he used to tease her about and looked around.  She had a framed photo of her family from when she was twelve, back before her dad got sick.  She had braces and frizzy hair and he smiled softly at her wide, goofy grin. He picked that up, as well as the smaller snapshot of her and her mother on her graduation day, and a squat jade plant she must have gotten in the last month because otherwise it would be long dead.  He walked into her bedroom and picked up a shirt she had left on the floor.  He meant to toss it on her bed but before he could a whiff of her perfume wrapped around him, floral and warm.  It hit him like a physical blow and he sank down on the edge of her mattress.  

He had spent six months telling himself he hated her.  Six months of fury and self-righteous rants, and now— now he grasped for that anger and it slipped away, faint and ephemeral.  A tear tracked down his cheek and he thumbed it away, but then another one fell and then another.  

He took a deep, shaky breath and cleared his throat.  He forced himself to stand and plucked her father’s watch from her bedside table, and on his way out he grabbed the blanket she always had draped over her couch.  

Miller was sitting at their kitchen table and jumped up the second he walked in.  “You okay?  How is she?”  Bellamy set down the bag of Clarke’s things and let his roommate pull him into a hug.

“It’s bad,” he sighed, and Miller pounded his back.  “And tell your dad thanks.”

“You guys talked to her mom?”

“Right before I left, yeah.  Sounds like she’s on her way, or will be soon.”

“Good.  Do you need anything?  Are you hungry?”

Bellamy mustered a half-smile.  “I thought I was the fussy mother hen of the group.”

“Yeah, well, when you’re out of commission your second has to step up.”

“I appreciate it, but I’m not really hungry.  I think I just need to shower and go back.”

But when he came out of the shower, Miller had left a tupperware with leftover pasta from two nights ago by Clarke’s bag.  “Don’t argue,” Miller said.  “Just take it.”

Bellamy picked up a box of donuts on his way back to the hospital and dropped it off at the nurses’ station, along with an apology that Murphy readily accepted despite not having been present for either of his meltdowns.  “Feel free to get mad at my coworkers whenever you want, if it means I get donuts,” he said around a mouthful of chocolate glazed.  

* * *

When Bellamy walked back into Clarke’s room, Jackson was there, talking quietly with Raven.  As always, Clarke looked the same.  It was like he was trapped in a nightmare, constantly waiting for some sign she was  _ better _ , but it never came.  She always looked sick and weak and broken, and it made him ache.  Raven gnawed on her thumbnail and cut her eyes at Bellamy.

“What now?” he asked.

“We’re going to try the surgery again.  Her vitals are good but her right kidney is damaged beyond repair, so we need to take it out.”

“You’re taking out her  _ kidney?” _ Bellamy hissed.  

“The body has some redundancy built in.  The left kidney will take over the function of the right and she can live a perfectly normal life with just one, I promise.  We wouldn’t do this surgery if it would harm her.”

“No,” Bellamy said flatly. “Or— can’t you do transplants?  If I’m a match, she can have mine.”

Jackson smothered a smile.  “Then _you’d_ only have one kidney,” he pointed out.  “And matching tissue and coordinating donations take time we don’t have, not to mention the fact that we generally don’t do transplants for someone who still has one working kidney.”

“Abby agreed to this,” Raven interjected.  “They said it would be a possibility.”

“And they said this morning they’d fix all of it, and they didn’t.  So why trust them now?”

Raven and Jackson exchanged a look.  “Because Abby is her mother and a general surgeon, and  _ she _ trusts them,” Raven said.  “I’m worried too, okay?  But if this is what they have to do to fix her, this is what they have to do.”

“What’s it going to be like for her after?” Bellamy barreled on.  “You said she’d live a normal life, but are you sure of that?  What’s the guarantee?  What if they’re wrong?  What if she can’t live a normal life?”

“Being alive is better than being dead,” Raven said, her nostrils flaring.  “And I’d know that a hell of a lot better than you.”  She gestured down to her leg brace and Bellamy deflated.

“Sorry,” he said, and she narrowed her eyes but jerked her head in acceptance.

“So when does this happen?” he asked Jackson, resigned.

“We’ll take her up to pre-op now.  The surgery will take a few hours and then we’ll bring her right back down here to you.  If anything goes wrong, she has the best team in the hospital working on her and we will do everything in our power for her, I promise.”

Bellamy nodded along with Raven.  He let Raven say goodbye to Clarke and mumbled another apology to Jackson, who accepted it in stride, and then watched them wheel her out for the second time that day.

The past twenty-four hours had felt like a month.  Or a year.  Five years, even.  He felt a decade older and immeasurably sadder, and it didn’t seem to be ending any time soon.  Jackson hadn’t even broached the possibility of taking her off the ventilator, which meant he wasn’t expecting to wake her up at any point in the near future.  It was like being on a treadmill, staying in the same place no matter how hard he ran.

Raven crumpled into a chair and dug her palms into her eyes.  Bellamy sat down next to her and tactfully pretended he didn’t see her crying, because he suspected she wouldn’t appreciate his sympathy.  After several long moments she collected herself and sat up.  “Did Roan go home?” he asked, deliberately choosing a safe topic.

“He ran to my place to pick up some things.  I had my luggage, but it was all conference clothing and I’m not in the mood to wear a power suit.”  Her voice shook slightly at the start, but grew stronger as she talked.

“Are you two...a thing?” he asked.  He’d seen a certain softness in Roan’s eyes when he looked at Raven that didn’t really fit with his general impression of the man a spoiled, rich dickbag, and he was surprised to see Raven relying on him.

“No,” she said with a faint smile.  “Jasper posted something on Facebook about Clarke and Roan texted to see if there was anything he could do.  I said ‘get me from the airport to the hospital in fifteen minutes’ and the next thing I knew he was telling me where he’d meet me.”

“So he  _ wants _ you two to be a thing,” Bellamy teased gently.

Raven’s smile brightened by a half degree.  “I think so, yeah.  I’ve suspected for awhile, but…I dunno, I guess I assumed he’d flake on something like this, and he hasn’t.  He’s been...helpful.  And nice, which isn’t really what I’d expect.”

“Now I’m thinking  _ you _ want you two to be a thing.”

“God, I don’t know.  I feel like I shouldn’t, but I mean, come on.  Look at him.”

Bellamy grinned.  “What, rich momma’s boys aren’t your type?”

“I’ll have you know I hate my mother,” Roan said from the doorway.  Raven looked embarrassed but Roan’s eyes were dancing.  “I grabbed you a pillow, too,” he said, holding up the pillow tucked under his arm.  “Figured it might make sleeping here a little less shitty.”

Raven’s smile was genuine.  “Thanks,” she said, accepting the duffle bag and ducking into the bathroom to change.

“She in surgery again?” Roan asked.

“They’re taking out her kidney,” Bellamy explained.  “They said it would be the last surgery, but—”

“They said that this morning, too,” Roan guessed.  “Hopefully this will be it,” he said, and Bellamy didn’t know what else to do but nod.

Roan glanced back at the closed bathroom door.  “I was going to take her down to the cafeteria; try and get her to eat something.  Want to join us?”  Bellamy shook his head but before he could respond, Roan continued.  “They’ll page you if you’re not in the room and there’s news.  You don’t have to stay here just in case.”

Bellamy wondered how Roan knew so much about waiting in hospitals, but then Raven emerged in an oversized sweatshirt and glasses.  “You coming?” Roan asked Bellamy, but he shook his head again.

“I’ve got some leftovers,” he replied.

“Suit yourself.  By the way, if you flirt with the nurses sometimes they’ll let you use their microwave,” Roan added with a tiny wink.  “Come on, Raven— let’s go get something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” she said.

“I’m sure you’re not, but trust me, it’s better than waiting.”

She glanced between them, nodded once, and followed Roan from the room.  Bellamy spent the next 45 minutes scrolling through his phone, pretending to read the news even though his eyes refused to focus for longer than a handful of minutes.  He picked at the pasta Miller had sent and considered taking up Roan’s suggestion, but he was too tired to muster up anything approaching charming, much less flirting.

Raven and Roan returned and lingered at the doorway, talking quietly.  Roan looked over.  “Did you need anything?” he asked Bellamy.

Bellamy waved him off and tried not to watch them hug goodbye.  It felt intrusive, like he was witnessing a private moment, with Roan’s hand curled around the base of her skull and his lips pressed to her temple.

When he left, Raven curled into the recliner Bellamy had slept in the night before.  “How does he know so damn much about hospitals?” he asked.

One corner of her mouth quirked up.  “He does a lot of extreme sports, so his friends are always crushing limbs and getting concussions.  I think he’s sort of a regular at this.”

“Figures.  But I’m glad— I’m glad he’s here for you.”

Raven’s eyes went soft.  “I am too, actually.  You don’t have to stay the night, you know,” she added.  “I can handle this until Abby gets here tomorrow morning.”

Bellamy waved her off.  “I signed some stuff as her husband, so I should probably stay, just in case.”

“Oh cool, so you committed fraud?”

“It was an emergency situation.  I just gave a false impression, is all.”

“I’ll be sure to testify to that in court,” she said drily.

“Cute,” he grumbled, but he was almost-smiling.  He had always liked Raven best out of Clarke’s friends— she had his same determination and there was a fierce loyalty to her that he admired.  Granted, he suspected he had torched any chance at being on the receiving end of that loyalty back in November, but he was glad Clarke had someone like her in her corner.

An hour later, Jackson walked into the room and they both sprang out of their chairs.  “It went well,” he said, and they both breathed a sigh of relief.  “And if her lung function continues to improve, we should be able to take her off the ventilator and sedation tomorrow.”

“So she’ll wake up?” Raven asked hopefully.

“She’ll be able to wake up, yes,” Jackson said.

Raven sagged into Bellamy with relief and he automatically wrapped his arm around her, squeezing her into a side-hug.  “Thank you,” he told Jackson sincerely.  “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“People worry about their loved ones,” Jackson said.  “It happens.  But your girl is a fighter, and she’s doing her best to fight this.”

Bellamy shook Jackson’s hand and Raven gave him a hug.   _ People worry about their loved ones _ .

 

_ Loved ones. _

 

Fuck.  He was still in love with Clarke.

 


	2. Chapter 2

For the second night in a row, Bellamy slept sitting up.  He let Raven take the comfortable chair and spent the night alternating between dozing and jerking awake whenever a nurse came in to check Clarke's vitals.  He had just fallen back asleep again when a commotion near the door woke him up.

Abby Griffin ran in, stopping just short of Clarke’s bed.  She gasped in horror.  “Clarke,” she whispered through her fingers, the sound so pained Bellamy winced.  He stood as unobtrusively as possible and snuck towards the door only to bump into a bearded man roughly Abby’s age.

“You must be Bellamy,” the man said quietly.  “Marcus.”

Bellamy glanced back at Abby and Clarke, bewildered.  He shook Marcus’ hand and then paused.  “I’m sorry, who are you?”

Marcus smiled, a quick flash of teeth.  “I’m a coordinator for the relief program Abby was working for.  When I heard about Clarke...I didn’t want her to have to do this alone.”  

“Right, okay,” Bellamy whispered.  “I was going to go get some coffee and give them a minute.  Did you want anything?”

Marcus was watching Abby with an expression Bellamy knew he’d worn on his own face many times— it was a mixture of awe and pride and devotion and a fair bit of worry.  It was hard not to look at a Griffin woman like that.  “I had coffee at the airport, but thanks,” he said, and clapped Bellamy on the shoulder.

Raven was awake and talking to Abby when he returned, and accepted the coffee from him with a tight smile.  Abby seemed to realize he was there for the first time.  “Bellamy,” she said in a ragged voice.  “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, because direct gratitude always made him squirm.

“No, I will,” she said fiercely.  “I know things didn't end well with Clarke, but you took care of her and I want you to know how much that means to me.”

“Then you’re welcome,” he said over a lump in his throat.  “It was the least I could do.”

Abby squeezed his forearm in thanks and turned her attention back to her daughter.  “I think I’ll go,” he told Raven quietly.  His excuse for staying this long was that Clarke didn’t have anyone who could make medical decisions for her— not legally, anyway— and the hospital was willing to pretend he was her husband.  But with Abby here, he was officially useless.

“Stay,” Raven said, shaking her head.  “They said they’re bringing her out of sedation today, remember?  You might as well see this thing through.”

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” he asked.

“By me?  Mostly.  The rest is up to her,” she replied, but knocked her elbow against his ribs with a smile.

 

* * *

 

It was surprising how thirty-six hours in a hospital made you an expert at things like nurses’ schedules and interns’ rounds.  It was the new normal, in a way; sitting in an uncomfortable chair and waiting for someone to come tell them Clarke’s condition hadn’t changed.  But in the early afternoon Jackson said they were going to take her off the ventilator and test her lung function.  Roan had appeared some time earlier, lurking in the background, and Bellamy saw Raven clutch his fingers when they turned the machine off.

Abby cried with joy and Raven buried her face in Roan’s shoulder when Clarke took a rasping, shuddering breath.  It was the best sound Bellamy had heard in days, but he watched Marcus squeeze Abby’s hand and Roan stroke Raven’s hair and knew he didn’t deserve a place here.  He clenched his hands into fists, fighting the urge to run, and listen to Jackson explain that they would be lowering her sedation.  Clarke would wake up on her own at some point in the next hour.  

He was as relieved as the rest of them, but he kept remembering Clarke’s face when he saw her last.  The pain, the anger, the sadness— they were indelibly burned into his memory.  And he knew, without a doubt, she wouldn’t want him here.  But he also couldn’t bring himself to leave without having gotten a glimpse of her awake.  

It was the most anxious forty minutes of his life.  Every twitch of her fingers had them all lurching out of their seats, hoping it was a sign she was waking up.  Eventually neither Abby nor Raven could sit still any longer, both of them pacing at the foot of Clarke’s bed to try and burn off their nervous energy.  Bellamy was rooted to the spot, desperately searching for an indication she was coming out of it.

And then it happened.  Abby and Raven were discussing whether or not to go get Jackson again, and Clarke’s eyes fluttered open.  Bellamy opened his mouth to call them over and then stopped, because for a heartbeat it seemed like she was going to smile and he wanted so badly for her to be  _ happy _ to see him.  Her eyes focused, confused but warm, and then her expression cleared.  Her face hardened and she frowned.  “Bellamy? What— what happened?  What are you doing here?”

Abby and Raven heard her voice and whirled into action.  Bellamy stood up and moved out of the way, letting them explain where she was and all about the accident and her surgeries.  Clarke let her mother stroke her hair and tangled her fingers with Raven, and then her eyes found Bellamy as he stood near the door, debating if he should leave.  “Why are _you_ here?” she asked again. Her voice was raw from the tubes, but there was no mistaking the coldness.  

 

“It was my call,” Raven said, clearly trying to give him some cover.  “I was in Chicago and there wasn't anyone else around when it happened.  And I told him to stay.  He’s been here all—”

“I don’t care how long he’s been here,” Clarke interrupted.  “I don’t want him here anymore.”

Raven sent him an apologetic look but he shook his head.  “I’ll go,” he said.  “She’s right.  I shouldn’t be here.”

Abby looked like she wanted to protest but Bellamy walked out before she got a chance.  Clarke was awake.  She was alive, and she was going to be okay.

And she still hated him.

He wasn’t surprised.  He  _ expected  _ her to still hate him, but a small, pathetic part of his heart had hoped she wouldn’t.  After all, he had thought he hated her until he saw her lying broken in that hospital bed.  Maybe, he hoped, maybe she had forgiven him in the time they spent apart.

But she hadn’t.  And he had to live with that.

Anger came bubbling out of nowhere, filling his stomach and exploding through his chest.  Bellamy stopped and leaned back against the wall, struggling for breath.  He was a goddamn idiot.  He fucked things up with Clarke so badly she couldn’t even stand the  _ sight  _ of him, and now he’d gone and realized he never stopped loving her.

Because he  _ had  _ been in love with her.  He’d been in love with her before she left, but he let himself even think it because that wasn’t part of their deal.  He had been lying to himself and to her for months, and then got angry with her for not realizing it.

He fucked everything up and she was never, ever going to forgive him.  He spun around and punched the wall, not giving a damn if he shattered his knuckles.  He bit back a roar and felt a hand on his shoulder.  It was Marcus, looking so sympathetic Bellamy wanted to scream.  “You’ve had a long few days, son,” he said gently.

“Don’t call me son,” Bellamy growled.  He was not in the mood to be soothed by some man he barely knew, and Marcus practically reeked of pity.

Marcus tried again.  “You’ve barely slept in days and she’s just experienced a major trauma,” he said.  “Whatever happened with you two—if it can be fixed, now isn't the time.”

“You don’t know what happened,” Bellamy spat.  “Don’t— don’t do this.”

“Okay then,” Marcus said, still in that same soothing tone.  “Then how about you go home and get some sleep.  Raven will keep you posted on how she’s doing, and if Clarke is up for seeing you later, we’ll let you know.”

Bellamy nodded and turned to go.  Sleep was the last thing he wanted to do, but he couldn’t stay here.  

 

* * *

 

_ Bellamy had read the same paragraph six times.  He knew it was saying something important but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what.  He was just ready to curse academic jargon and give up for good when there was a knock at the door.  “Miller, I swear to god, if you forgot your key again I’m going to staple it to your forehead,” he yelled. _

_ But when he opened the door, it wasn’t Miller. _

_ It was Clarke. _

_ He stared at her, not quite believing what he was seeing.  “You’re...here?” _

_ “Surprise!” she said, laughing nervously.  “Sorry, it was a last minute trip and I wasn’t sure I’d have time to see you, so I didn’t say anything.” _

_ He stepped aside and let her in, giving her an awkward hug.  Officially they had parted as Just Friends, but Just Friends generally didn’t jerk off over the phone together like they had last month.  He felt like they were on the brink of something and wasn’t sure how to say it, and now she was here, in the flesh.  It was a lot to take in.  “What brings you back to town?” _

_ Clarke shrugged off her jacket and plopped onto his couch like nothing had changed.  “Remember how my mom was thinking about doing that Doctors Without Borders type thing? She signed up and they need her sooner rather than later, I guess. I came back to say goodbye.” _

_ “When does she leave?” _

_ “Just dropped her off at the airport.  And my flight isn’t until tomorrow.  Am I interrupting?” _

_ “Just reading some of the worst academic prose ever written,” he replied.  “Want a beer?” _

_ Clarke accepted and at first, it seemed like they really were just friends.  She listened to him whine about his lack of progress on his dissertation, and she did her best to describe the multimedia installation she was designing.   _They talked and drank and laughed, and he told himself he was fine with this new status quo, b_ ut then she glanced at the door and drew her lower lip between her teeth.   _

_ “Where’s Miller?” she asked. _

_ “Watching the game down at Grounders.” _

_ “What game?” _

_ “No idea.” _

_ She grinned.  “How long does that usually take?” _

_ “A few hours,” he said with a shrug.  “He left right before you got here and it’s usually a whole-afternoon thing.  Why?” _

_ Her eyes glinted.  “Just wondering how quiet I’ll have to be.”  She pushed herself onto her knees and crawled towards him. _

_ “Expecting something, princess?” he asked, even as he curved his hand along her jaw. _

_ She hesitated.  “This doesn’t change anything, right? We’re still us?” _

_ He knew what she meant.  That they were still Just Friends, like she’d wanted when she left.  Like he’d promised after that night on the phone.  His gut twisted but he made himself smile.  “Of course we are.  Just friends who sometimes fuck,” he smirked, and she kissed him. _

_ He missed kissing her more than he realized until right then, when her lips were against his and her tongue was in his mouth.  Her hair was soft under his hands and he carried her into his bedroom.  He fucked her with his tongue and fingers and cock, and she clawed deep scratches into his back with her nails.  He made her come twice and wanted to make her come a third time, but her walls were so snug around him that he couldn’t hold back, coming with a groan as he buried his face in her neck. _

_ She waited for him to throw away the condom and then let him pull her back against his chest, his lips trailing across her neck and shoulder. _

_ It felt so right, so good, that he couldn't stop the next words that came out.  “So we’re doing this, right?” _

 

* * *

 

_Raven Reyes_

_ 3:49pm _

_ She said she’s willing to see you _

 

Bellamy’s stomach jolted.  It had been three days with no contact, and he had all but given up on hearing from Clark.  Raven had texted two days ago to say she was being discharged from the ICU and sent to a general recovery floor, but that was it.  

 

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ 3:51pm _

_ She’s willing, or she wants to? _

 

_ Raven Reyes _

_ 3:52pm _

_ Willing.  She knows what you did for her and she wants to say thank you. _

 

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ 3:52pm _

_ When works? _

 

_ Raven Reyes _

_ 3:52pm _

_ She’s at PT now but she said any time tonight or tomorrow night _

 

_ Bellamy _

_ 3:53pm _

_ I’ll be there at 7 _

 

Bellamy walked into the hospital at a quarter to seven.  The smell was familiar by now, a mixture of disinfectant and faux lemon cleaner, and he took the elevator up to the sixth floor.  This one was much quieter than the ICU; the nurses walked with less urgency and there were fewer buzzing, beeping machines.

Abby was sitting in a recliner much like the one in the ICU, looking over a stack of paperwork. Clarke was propped up in bed, flipping listlessly through channels.  Abby’s eyes went to Clarke to gauge her reaction to him, and Bellamy did the same.  But Clarke’s face remained impassive; unreadable.

“I’ll run down to the cafeteria and get something to eat,” Abby said, lightly touching Bellamy’s shoulder on her way out.  Clarke had yet to say anything.  She just watched him, waiting for him to speak.

Bellamy awkwardly held up the bag in his left hand.  “I, uh, brought you something.”  He pulled out the oversized sketch book and handed it to her.  “I know it’s big, but I figured that way you could use your cast to hold it in place while you draw,” he said.  “There’s some charcoal in here, too.”

Clarke smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.  “Thanks.  And thanks for— what you did.”

He sat down next to her.  “Of course.  I wouldn’t have left you alone.”

“I know you wouldn’t have,” she said.  “And I’m sorry I freaked out on you the other day.  I didn’t— everything was so confusing, and I didn’t know why you were here.”

“It’s fine,” he said, waving his hand.  “I understand.”

“Did you really sleep in a chair?”

“Twice,” he said with a glimmer of a smile.  “They don’t have many rollaways in hospitals, you know.”

“I suppose not, not being hotels and all,” she said, echoing his tone.  “But still— thank you.”

Bellamy looked down and took a deep breath.  “I’m sorry too,” he said, making himself lift his head.  “For— how we ended.”

Clarke’s shoulders tightened.  “I guess I’m sorry about that too,” she said softly.  “I was a mess after how things with Lexa turned out and I was convinced it was the distance, you know?  That I just couldn’t do that.  So I thought— I thought if we held off, maybe we’d have a chance later, even if we blurred the lines sometimes.  But that wasn't fair to you."

_ A chance later. _  He wished they still had that.  A lump rose in this throat.  “And I wasn’t honest with you.  I—” he made sure he was looking her in the eye, because he owed her that.  That, and the truth.  “I told you I’d be fine with being friends, and I wasn’t.  Because— I was in love with you.”

“God, why did you have to say that?” she said, her eyes filling with tears.  She looked up at the ceiling, sniffling.  “I was in love with you too.”

The words landed like a kick to his chest.  He reached out, wanting to take her hand, but she twitched it away.  He blinked back his own tears.  “Clarke, I—”

“No, Bellamy, please,” she said, shaking her head rapidly.  “I know— I know what you want to say, but please, don’t.  I was asleep, okay?  Raven and my mom told me how you were here, and I— I appreciate that, and I know it must have been hard for you, but I wasn’t really here, you know?  Nothing’s changed for me; not yet.”

Bellamy swallowed thickly.  “I get it,” he said, standing.

“I’m not saying no.  I guess I don’t know what I’m saying, just that I need more time.”

“How much?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted.  “But more than just a few days.”

“Okay,” he rasped.  “I can give you that.  You— you get better, okay?  Focus on your recovery.  I’ll...be around.”

“You don’t have to wait for me,” she said, and he needed to leave before he lost it, but he didn’t want to walk out on her.  “I won’t ask for that.  It wouldn’t be fair of me, so I won’t. But—”

“I get it,” he said, cutting her off.  “I do.  But you— take whatever time you need.  Take care, Clarke,” he finished and turned to leave before his heart shattered completely.

 

* * *

 

Part of being a graduate student was getting an unpleasant jolt in your stomach every time you got an email.  Bellamy was always half-convinced the next email he got would be his advisor solemnly explaining that he couldn’t hack it in a doctoral program and he was being kicked out immediately.  That email had yet to come, of course— and Pike seemed to like his most recent chapter— but still.  Every time his email program said he had a new message, he prepared himself for the worst.

And even still, he wasn’t prepared for this.

 

[ clarke.m.griffin@gmail.com ](mailto:clarke.m.griffin@gmail.com)

To

[ bellamy.blake@arkadia.edu ](mailto:bellamy.blake@arkadia.edu)

Re: can we talk?

 

_ I know it’s been a long time, but I’ve had a lot of thinking to do.  If you’re still willing, would you mind coming over for dinner?  If you don’t want to see me again, consider this one last thank you for everything you did for me when I was in the hospital. _

 

_ Clarke _

_ PS. Sorry to do this over email but I deleted your phone number back in December.  If you did the same, I’m 434-555-2750 _

  
  


It had been almost four months since he last saw her. She asked for time and he was more than willing to give her that, but as the weeks ticked by he figured he had his answer.  It sucked, but he had already been through this before.  He would survive, even if it felt like the world was a little greyer.  But now a tiny flicker of hope ignited in his chest and he picked up his phone.

  
  


_ Bellamy Blake _

_ 9:21pm _

_ Hey, it’s Bellamy.  I’m up for dinner.  When are you thinking? _

 

_ Donotcall Nomatterwhat _

_ 9:22pm _

_ When do you have class? _

 

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ 9:22pm _

_ I teach Mon-Wed mornings and have a meeting with Pike every Thursday afternoon. _

 

_ Donotcall Nomatterwhat _

_ 9:22pm _

_ I assume you’re completely useless after that still? _

 

Bellamy grinned in spite of the way his palms were sweating.

 

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ 9:22pm _

_ Yeah I’m generally a disaster that entire day _

 

_ Donotcall Nomatterwhat _

_ 9:23pm _

_ Friday, then?  Whatever time works for you.  I’m done at the gallery at 4 _

 

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ 9:23pm _

_ How about 6? _

 

_ Donotcall Nomatterwhat _

_ 9:23pm _

_ That works _

 

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ 9:23pm _

_ Btw, Raven wouldn’t give you my number?  She definitely has it. _

 

_ Donotcall Nomatterwhat _

_ 9:23pm _

_ She said she wasn’t going to get involved and I had to do this myself _

 

_ Donotcall Nomatterwhat _

_ 9:23pm _

_ I pointed out she was the one who deleted your number from my phone, but you know her _

 

_ Donotcall Nomatterwhat _

_ 9:23pm _

_ She’s merciless _

 

Bellamy chuckled to himself and Miller glanced up from his video game.

 

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ 9:23pm _

_ If it makes you feel better, Miller changed your name to Donotcall Nomatterwhat _

 

The ellipsis indicating she was typing appeared and disappeared twice before her next message popped up.

 

_ Donotcall Nomatterwhat _

_ 9:24pm _

_ Then I’ll keep my fingers crossed for an upgrade to my name _

 

Miller looked over at him again.  “What are you grinning at?” he asked.

 

“None of your damn business,” Bellamy grumbled.

 

“Oh, so it’s Clarke.”

 

“I said, none of your damn business.”

 

Miller unpaused his game and shot a zombie in the head.  “Tell Donotcall Nomatterwhat I say hi.”

  
  


* * *

 

Bellamy pulled into Clarke’s parking lot at seven minutes to six.  He killed the engine and stared at the apartment building, wondering if she’d be annoyed with him for showing up early.  In the end he decided not to risk it and spent the next nine minutes scrolling through his phone and hoping she didn't have a window that looked out over the parking lot.

At exactly three minutes after six she buzzed him into her building.  He walked up two flights and knocked on her door, only for her to throw it open immediately.  The scent of roast chicken floated out to him— lemon and rosemary— and his mind flashed back to the last time she made that for him. She had joked it was her standard fourth date meal and a guaranteed ticket to getting laid.  They’d ended up fucking on her kitchen counter while it cooked and then again after he finished the dishes.  He wanted to tease her about it, but he wasn’t totally sure where they stood yet and he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.  “Smells good,” he said instead. Her casts were gone and the scars on her forehead nearly invisible, although whether that was due to makeup or a surgeon he couldn’t say.  She wasn’t nearly as pale or as thin as when he saw her last either, which was a relief.  She looked better; healed.  A weight he hadn’t known was there lifted off his shoulders.

Clarke bit her lower lip and stepped back.  “Thanks for waiting,” she said.  He raised his eyebrows and she tipped her head towards her living room window.  “I saw you pull into the parking lot, but I hadn’t changed my clothes yet.”

Bellamy stepped out of his shoes.   “Let me guess— paint-covered flannel and shorts.”

“Give me more credit than that,” she said with a friendly eye roll.  “I was at work.  I was wearing a paint-stained flannel and  _ jeans.” _

“My mistake,” he said, a small grin playing at the corner of his mouth.  “Can I help with anything?”

“Everything’s almost ready.  Did you want wine?”

“If you’re having some,” he said.  He followed her to her kitchen.  She had unpacked more since he was last here, but there were still a few boxes lying haphazardly in the corner.  

“Red or white?”

“Aren’t we supposed to have white with chicken?”

“Yeah, but you don’t really like white,” she countered.

“Then red,” he replied, unable to stop his smile this time.  

“Looks like you’re still not done unpacking,” he observed and then paused, wondering if she even knew he’d been in here.  Suddenly that felt like a violation; like he had intruded on her privacy.

But Clarke just pulled the stopper out of the wine bottle.  “Yeah, well, getting t-boned by a pickup and then spending weeks in the hospital will sort of slow down the unpacking process,” she said drily.

He sucked in a breath because he was never going to get over how close he had come to losing her.  Clarke handed him a stemless wine glass and he accepted, unable to look her in the eye.  “Sorry, bad joke,” she said.

“Don’t apologize.  It happened to you, not me.”

“It sort of happened to you too, though,” she said gently.  “As in, you had to deal with the aftermath.  It was obviously way worse for me, so I definitely win there.” she added, cracking a smile.

“You have the worst fucking sense of humor,” he muttered, chuckling in spite of himself.

“Second worst.  Yours is pretty bad too,” she replied.

They grinned stupidly at each other until the timer beeped from the oven.  Clarke sprang into action and pulled the chicken from the oven and Bellamy made himself useful by carrying the salad to the table.  It was a different table than the one she had before she left for California— that one was round and this one was square with a light, honey finish that fit with her airy apartment. He couldn’t stop cataloguing the differences between then and now and he wasn’t sure why— maybe he was trying to remind himself that things had changed with them, even though part of him felt like they hadn’t.  They could still tease each other, still work quietly side by side, still share a comfortable silence while they carried the food from the kitchen to the table.  But they weren’t together anymore; he couldn’t touch the small of her back as he passed her in the kitchen and she didn’t kiss his cheek for no reason.  But then again she kept smiling at him, stealing glances that made his heart lift.

The spark of hope had fanned itself into an inferno, but he couldn’t let himself get carried away.  

“How’s Octavia?” Clarke asked.

“Engaged to Lincoln,” he sighed dramatically.

“Oh come on, you knew that was coming,” she ribbed him.  “And he’s a great guy.”

“I just generally disapprove of my baby sister being an adult,” he griped.  “And getting married is the most adult thing she can do.”  Clarke smiled sympathetically and he fought the urge to reach for her hand.  “How’s Raven?” he asked instead.

Clarke frowned at her plate and speared a carrot with her fork.  “I think— I think she’s fucking Roan?  She’s being weird about him, and when I stopped by her place that week she  _ definitely _ had someone over.”

“Yeah, they’re definitely fucking,” Bellamy said around a bite of potatoes.  “For sure.”

“How do you know?”

“They were on the verge of it when you were— when you were in the hospital,” he said, stumbling over the mention of those few days.  “If she’s being weird about him, it’s because they’re fucking.  Probably dating, actually.”

“Why does that sound even weirder than just fucking?”

“Because it implies Roan has feelings, which I’m not sure he does.”

“God, our friends so weird,” she groaned, and his heart did a stutter-step at the mention of  _ our. _

“They are,” he said lightly.

Clarke swallowed and set her fork neatly down on the edge of her plate.  “Speaking of the hospital,” she said, her eyes flicking away from him.  She took a deep breath.  “I wanted to say thank you, again, for everything you did.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, his heart flopping down into somewhere near his stomach.  This was it— whatever was coming, it was happening now.  He wasn’t sure he was ready, but he also knew he couldn’t take not knowing any longer.

“You know it wasn’t,” she said softly.  “It was huge.  And I owe you so much.  No, let me finish.  I can’t ever repay you for what you did, especially considering how we left things.  So thank you, Bellamy.  You didn’t have to do all of that for me, but you did.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said.  Her gratitude made him uncomfortable, and not just because he didn’t want her to think he took care of her so she’d have to  _ pay him back. _   His skin crawled at the thought.

“I know.  Because that’s the sort of person you are.  You give without ever expecting anything back, even when you should.”  Bellamy looked down at his half-finished meal and shrugged.  “I have a question, though,” she continued.  “Did you really try to give me one of your kidneys?”

He found her smiling wryly at him and couldn’t help but almost-smile back.  “I panicked,” he said with another raise of his shoulder.  “You were in really bad shape.  And  _ try _ is putting it kind of strongly.  I mostly just offered and Jackson laughed it off.”

“Yeah, well, still.  You wanted to give a kidney to someone you hadn’t seen in months and probably still hated.  I don’t think you know how rare that is.”

“You would have done the same thing for me,” he insisted.

“Don’t be so sure.  I iced Wells out for all of sophomore year of high school because he beat me for student council VP.  When I feel like holding a grudge, I can  really hold a grudge.”

“Do you still?” he asked, forcing himself to meet her gaze.  “Hold a grudge against me, I mean.”

“Of course not.”

“Because I was there for you at the hospital?”

“No,” she said, surprising him.  “I forgave you before that.  I didn’t want to admit I had, but when I moved back my first thought was finding you.  I wanted to apologize, but I wasn’t sure you’d listen.  But then when you were there when I woke up, I panicked.”  Clarke stood and walked over to him, her hands curled into fists by her side.  “The truth is, part of me was glad you were there.  Part of me always wants you to be the first person I see when I wake up, no matter what.  I’m just afraid I ruined that.”

Bellamy reached out and took her hand in his, hardly daring to breathe.  “You haven’t,” he said.  “You couldn’t ruin it.  Not even if you tried.”

Clarke’s other hand came up to caress his cheek, her eyes raking across his face.  He tilted his head back, leaning into her touch.  “Are you sure?  Because you’ve gotta admit, we gave ruining things our best shot.”

“We did,” he agreed, licking his lips.  “But it didn’t work.  Ergo, we can’t really ruin this for good.”

“Ergo,” she repeated, shaking her head.  “You’re such a fucking nerd.”

“Guilty as charged,” he said and a smile spread across his face.  “But you love it, don’t you?”

“I do,” she said, her eyes bright.  “I really do.”

 

Slowly, she leaned down and closed the distance between them.  Her lips were soft and her tongue tart from the wine, but underneath all of that was  _ Clarke. _   Bellamy cupped her face in his hands and she sighed against his mouth, a happy noise that made him want to grin.  But his lips were busy exploring hers, relearning the contours he hadn’t quite forgotten in the months they were apart.  Clarke tried to climb into his lap but he was sitting too close to the table and she couldn’t make it work.

They both laughed when her hip hit the edge of the table for a second time and Bellamy stood, easing the strain on both their necks without letting go of her lips.  Clarke curled her hands into the front of his shirt and tugged him forward, away from the table and towards the bedroom.  “We didn’t finish dinner,” he murmured.

“Who gives a shit; I’ll make it some other time,” Clarke declared, speeding up the pace of her steps.

Her bedroom was the usual mess of clothes covering most of the floor and exploding from her closet.  He almost tripped on a pair of her shoes and chuckled to himself, because some things never changed and he never, ever wanted them to.

They fumbled with each other’s clothes, everything feeling new and familiar at the same time.  Bellamy smothered his sharp intake of breath when he saw her scars, curving around her abdomen and slashing across her lower back.  But however hard it was for him to see the evidence of her wounds, it had been far, far worse for her, so he tucked away the worry those scars brought back.  He kissed the curve of her neck and the top of her shoulder. He smoothed his hands down her sides and focused on how good she felt melting into him, how perfect her lips felt moving across his chest.  He let go and focused on the  _now_ , because Clarke was kissing down his stomach and his skin was on fire.  

It was like a dance they already knew.  Every part of her was as familiar as his own body and she knew him just as well.  He made her fall apart with his fingers, her face buried in in his neck as she groaned.  He pushed into her and her arms laced around his shoulders to hold him close.  It was perfect, slow and gentle and deep in a way he felt in his marrow.  He was careful not to move too fast, mindful of her injuries and lingering stiffness, but she curled her nails into his back and urged him on.  He should have known she wouldn't want him to treat her as breakable but he still wanted to take his time, to savor the moment.  They settled on a steady, rocking rhythm that made them both gasp and tremble, and when he came he wondered if he had ever truly been happy before that very second.

Clarke curled into him after, her head seeking out the soft spot between his shoulder and chest.  She swept her fingers over his skin and sighed.  “Raven was right; that was way better than physical therapy,” she chuckled.

Bellamy huffed out a laugh and kissed the top of her head.  “I guess we’ll just have to make this a regular thing.”

She lifted her head, her eyes shining and bright.  “I guess we will.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Everything I know about hospitals and medicine I've learned from Grey's Anatomy.
> 
> Title from "Sleeping" from the musical Once.


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